Mario Villalobos


  • Notes

Yesterday, a little kindergartener spent the day in the main office because she was in trouble. We sat her down on a desk in the corner and kept an eye on her here and there to ensure she did her work. Occasionally we would see her poke her head out, and every time we would tell her to return to her desk and get to work.

“Can you call my mom?” she asked my friend, the secretary, during one of these moments.

“Why?” she asked her.

“Because I don’t like school anymore.”

I wanted to burst out laughing, but I kept it together until she returned to her desk, out of sight.

“Can you call my husband?” another co-worker said. “Because I don’t like work anymore.”

We had a good laugh, but eventually, we went back to work, too.

Later, the little girl left her desk again and asked my friend, “Can I go to the potty?” My friend looked at her for a moment, but before she could say anything, the little girl continued, “Because I keep farting.”

I couldn’t hold it together. I covered my face with my hands and laughed as quietly as I could. Once I saw her leave the office, I lost it. I laughed until my eyes watered.

Sometime later, the principal came out of his office to ask me to do something. “Before I do that,” I said, “can I go potty?” He looked at me funny and said,

“Yes, Mario, you can go potty.”

I smiled and said, “Because I keep farting.”

My job is the best.